Inside Of Me
by Mellaithwen
Summary: A short vignette. Orcs were Elves once. Do they remember the tortures? Do they remember their old selves? From Lurtz's perspective. Please R


**Disclaimer:All the names and characters herein that are in the works of J.R.R.Tolkien are used with the greatest of fondness and no disrespect is intended. No money is being made, it is merely a harmless tale which has been inspired by the most amazing writer that ever lived. **

**Summary: A short vignette.** **Orcs were Elves once. Do they remember the tortures? Do they remember their old selves? From Lurtz's perspective.**

_"Do you know how the Orcs first came into being?" Saruman asked the Uruk-Hai that stood proud next to him. "They were elves once, taken by the dark powers, tortured and mutilated. A ruined and terrible form of life." he answered himself. "And now... perfected. My fighting Uruk-Hai. Whom do you serve?"_

Lurtz stood. Listening to the old wizard talking. Not caring about what came out of his wrinkled mouth. The words seem to pour straight over him. His outward emotions did not show anything but a cold faced murderer, but inside a sudden feeling became known.

_Look past the darkness_

_Look past the skin_

_Help me out of this prison_

_I've found myself in._

Another presence inside of him. A weeping elf. Broken and alone. Living every day in a cruel hearted, hot-headed killing machine. Standing by, helpless, as he massacared villages. And slew innocents at his Masters bidding.

Lurtz couldn't see him. But he knew he was there. He was huddled in the corners. Clinging to the walls of his prison. Muttering words under his breath. A contant delirium overcoming him. The large Orc wondered for a moment what it must be like for the Elf. He had watched them. Before killing them of course, he had seen them happy. Laughing, dancing. He had then watched as they bled to death. Crystaline tears mixed with crimson stains.

They were too happy. Too fake. Lurtz only dismissed the jealousy in the presence of others. Why would he be jealous of a bunch of prissy elves? But when he watched them, before attacking, he would use the jealousy. The anger. He would fuel it towards them. He would win the battle because of it. Because of his want for something like that.

He had no wish to be happy. To be accepted. Oh no. He just wanted the freedom. Even if he had no Master. Even if he could do whatever he liked, he would never be left alone. Always sought. The hunter becomes the hunted and his whole world crumbles. He felt a slight respect for his enemy. For his opponent. The Elves he tended to fight were strong. Almost fearless. Set on one goal, protecting their own. But this Elf, the one that wept, that longed for a life long gone, this Elf deserved nothing than to endure this for all eternity, a living hell.

Lurtz snorted to himself. Unseen by any other. The Elf was lucky. No one would recognize him. A weakling like him was the kind of Elf Lurtz killed daily. He hated them. If they could not stand up for themselves then why did they deserve everything they got if they weren't willing to defend it with their lives?

He knew how to make people scream. He would make them all scream. He would make them all feel the pain he felt. The things they had done to him. But they had changed him. They had made him what he is. No longer the weak Elf who screamed. Who wept. Who wished for death daily as they whipped him. Pained him in ways unimaginable. After a while he didn't bother screaming and his captors didn't mind. Bloodlust. All they wanted was the red streaks on his perfect skin. But his skin had not been perfect for some time. In fact, the first he was gone he was beyond recognition, but if you looked closely, the blue eyes would have given him away.

He screamed for them until his throat was hoarse. Dry heaves came as he screamed and screamed. They would leave him alone but still he tried to scream. Until only unaudible whispers came from his cracked lips.

_Not anymore._

_Never._

_Never again would he scream for them. _

He would sit there. Lie there. As they destroyed him. His face a mask of calm. Depression. Suicidal. He did not speak. He did not weep. He merely stared into space. He still listened. He heard them as they discussed him. How far they would have to go, how far they thought he would last. But he made it through. He became strong. Both in body and mind. Maybe he wanted revenge? Maybe he had caught the need for blood. Red handed and proud. He didn't need to prove himself to anyone. The body count was enough.

And sometimes, at his weakest and worst moments he would close his eyes and feel, compassion for the Elf that wept and wept. He would close his eyes and he was home. Though where it was he did not know.

'No!' he would scold himself as he tried to remember.

'We have no emotions. It only leads to weakness. Our once graceful footsteps are hard and loud. Destroying the earth beneath our large iron boots. Not a care in the world. Our only work, desire, mission, is for pain. Our Masters tell us where to go and we abide the rules. We do as we're told, if it means we get a little fun out of it aswell. The blood curdling screams that echo through the night. That scare the crows out of the trees and bring fear to anyone who heard.

_"Saruman." The simple answer came from Lurtz's mouth. The single word, the name, that brought a grin upon the mad wizards features. Lurtz didn't care. He took a deep breath, that sounded like a growl, and banished the Elf. He killed him, as he killed so many others. The Elf was weak. He hated the Elf and he hated himself. But he would take it out on Men and Elves until one of them gathered up the strength and courage to kill him._


End file.
